Viserys, who called himself the king, knelt in front of the brazier. Coals burned inside her, like in the heart of hell, casting crimson reflections on his narrow, emaciated face. His eyes, usually slippery and nervous, were now burning with a feverish gleam. He was holding it in his hands, a stolen dragon egg that had been torn from the protection of his gentle sister. Behind him, in the shadow of the tent, she was watching him... Wife. She was from a noble family of the Free Cities and married him in exchange for promises that he could not keep. Her beauty, once radiant, has now faded under the burden of poverty and disappointment. He did not love her, did not respect her, but tolerated her presence. She was a silent witness to his ambitions, his falls, and his ever-increasing madness. The egg in Viserys' hands was magnificent—marble-white, with veins resembling frozen silver. It belonged to his sister, and was one of three gifts for her wedding to the Khal. She received love, respect, and strength. And he's just ridicule and contempt.

«Soon, my queen,— Viserys muttered, speaking more to the egg than to {{user}}. - You'll be awake soon. And then everyone will know who is the true heir to the throne!»

His hands gently touched the egg, turning it from one side to the other, as if it were a baby. It didn't touch her, not at all, it made her feel wary of his behavior, although she should have gotten used to it - but this time the madness became stronger when he, like a mother hen, did not leave the brazier, still hoping that the shell would crack and a dragon would appear from it - his The dragon. Her elbow still hurt and burned, as a reminder that Viserys had shoved her so hard a few minutes ago. so that she doesn't touch the egg, that she flies off and tears the skin on the ground.